And for My Next Trick
by ImpalaPower
Summary: Cas and Sam are out of their depth with the wacky predicament Dean's gotten himself into this time.  Uncomfortable humor with awkward, but hilarious, Wincest and Deastielity throughout.


**And for My Next Trick…**

**Summary:** Cas and Sam are out of their depth with the wacky predicament Dean's gotten himself into this time. Uncomfortable humor with awkward, but hilarious, Wincest and Deastielity throughout.**  
>Legals:<strong> I do not own anything Supernatural, at all, ever.**  
>Notes: <strong>Thank you so much to my best friend and beta, Connie, who is awesomely encouraging me to write this fic, as well as helping me along the way.

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><p><span>Chapter One, or, "The Morning After (so of Course Dean's Already Gone)"<span>

Sam found himself staring at the morning light peeking through the curtains as it danced around the olive green carpets. Well, olive green-_ish_ carpets. They looked more like they were probably lime green when they were first laid, but the years had not been kind to this carpeting: dust, dirt, dander, and who knows what else had been tracked across the fibers for many decades on the soles of hookers, Johns, and travellers like himself and his brother.

"Where in hell _is_ Dean?" Sam sighed out loud to himself.

"No, if he had gone back to Hell, I would have heard by now." Castiel's stoic gaze met Sam's from across the room, and even though Cas seemed to misunderstand sarcasm and turn of phrase often, Sam just didn't feel like explaining it to him.

The angel leaned against the window frame, resting the backs of his legs on the rattling air conditioning unit jutting out from the wall. He half-heartedly gazed back outside before adding, "If we have to go looking, you know we'll find him." The sentiment was probably more to comfort himself than the young Winchester, but Sam took it all the same.

Sam's eyes wandered across the cheesy geometric patterns on the walls. The years had not been kind to the papering either, in fact, it looked as though the walls were more worse for wear than the carpets. Strips of faded green and yellow rounded-squares had fallen down and then been cut loose, probably with a knife by the looks of the creasing. What remained had been tarnished to the brown-yellow color left by nearly half a century of cigarette smoke. Exasperated, Sam dropped his face into his hands and tried to smudge the tired frustration away. Finding that just rubbing wouldn't work, he applied the great effort to raise himself from the foot of his bed and cross to the motel room's sink.

The faucet squeaked as he turned it on, and the water spewed in all directions within the sink, rather than choose one clear path to cascade in. Sam cupped cool water in his large hands and raised it to his face. Gently, he splashed over his eyelids and cheeks, and caught a glimpse in the mirror of Cas straightening his back.

"Is it him?" Sam snapped his body around fast enough that he could feel water droplets fly from his face to his hair and shoulder. Castiel's brows met together in a tiny vertical crease as he opened his mouth to answer, but before the words could come out, there was a knock at the door.

Well, not so much a knock as a pound. Dean's pound. But, a voice rang from the other side, a squeaky, shrill, feminine voice that called "Sam? Cas? Come on, let me in!" The pounding stopped briefly and Sam slumped, dejected, back around to the sink to twist it back off. He could hear a scuttle in the room next to theirs and knew that's how he should respond to the door knocking, but his worry over Dean prevented him from bouncing into action. Grabbing the graying towel that hung over the sink, Sam patted his face down as he strode to the door. He noted that Cas continued to stand, as though carved in stone, by the window. The crease in Castiel's brow deepened as he watched Sam cross the room. The pounding started again and Sam pulled the door open between slams of the fist.

"Took you long enough," she snarled and she stopped her fist, just in time, from connecting with Sam's face. He took in the sight of the girl before him, and what a sight she was. She looked no older than nineteen, with shiny brown hair that still held last night's curls on one side, and had gone flat on the other. Something heart-shaped had been pressed into her face and left its mark in her cheek, and a quick glance at her hands confirmed it was the result of a ring she wore on her right middle finger. She brazenly raised that hand to Sam's collarbone, and used it to shove him back so she could gain access to the room behind him. At least, Sam assumed that's what she was trying to do, the effect of which was more like someone trying to move a bookcase without first unbolting it from the wall, and Sam was the bookcase. He couldn't help but grin a bit at the effort because it was so damn cute.

"Wipe that smirk off your face," she snapped as she simultaneously figured out that her petite frame could gain her access to the room if she were to duck under Sam's arm. As she followed through this plan, Sam watched her, perplexed at the stranger's comfort in his presence.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Sam asked the girl as he closed the door behind her. The fragrance she left behind was a mixture of faded strawberry shampoo and female body odor. It was somewhat intoxicating, actually. In the dusty air of the room, the impression the ring had left on her face seemed to have all but faded, showing that she was, in fact, a pretty girl under her scowl; large eyes, a slight (but natural) tan, and an athletic build. Her expression melted from its sour disposition to a new look of shock and disappointment.

"Can you seriously not recognize me at all?" she asked. Her voice faltered from squeaky to crackly. Her eyebrows bent in worry as she looked to Castiel, "and you, Cas?" He responded with the slightest shake of his head to each side. She sunk onto the bed opposite of Sam's, her face hard. A glimmer of light through the crack in the curtains highlighted again the heart impression on her cheek.

"It's me, Sammy," she said, her fists clenching, "Dean."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I am still pretty new to this whole "write a Supernatural fic" thing, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading, and hope you enjoyed!


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